


get the car packed and throw me the key

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21268808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: “Run away with me?”John keeps asking, and Rodney is running out of answers.





	get the car packed and throw me the key

He’s just starting to get up when he hears it, soft as a breeze and oddly fragile under the San Francisco sunset.

Sheppard’s not even looking at Rodney, too focused on staring at the yellow-orange ball of gas, limbs perched on their usual spot on the edge of the South Pier.

It’s not the only star Rodney’s seen up close, and not even the prettiest.

But it’s the very first and sometimes, that counts for something.

“Seeing as I’m about to trample over Radek and Sam’s ridiculous theory on fixing the wormhole drive with Asgard tech, I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check.”

He brushes off imaginary dirt from his pants, sighing at Sheppard’s tendency towards melancholia when left inside his own mind for a certain period of time.

Rodney doesn’t bother waiting for an answer when he reminds the other man that Teyla will be expecting them both at the mess for dinner.

_Run away with me?_

A little after midnight, as he stumbles to his quarters with a massive headache and an empty stomach, Rodney briefly wonders what it was Teyla wanted to discuss, and just what the Colonel meant with his question, before he is face-planting on his still-too-small bed.

.

.

While he’s come to respect Woolsey and his straight-laced brand of leadership, Rodney still can’t help but want to bash his head against something solid every time the man forces him to play nice with IOA representatives and other paper-pushing bureaucrats.

Whoever suggested that Rodney McKay is the best person to keep sending to these meetings either has too much faith in his ability to get what he wants, or is out to make his return to Earth as miserable as possible.

It doesn’t help that their meetings always have to be conducted under the Mountain.

“Best course of action, my _ass_.”

So when John Sheppard shows up from who-knows-where after a particularly-tiresome meeting with a _Canadian_ diplomat, no less, Rodney thanks his lucky stars for the distraction.

And if he deliberately interprets Sheppard's offer as a trip to one of his favorite diners just outside the base, well, the Colonel doesn’t correct him.

.

.

Rodney decides the third one doesn’t count, because Sheppard’s tipsy and he’s three seconds away from a blackout himself.

In the morning, he barely even remembers what they talked about.

.

.

After that, the words tend to vary, the context always shifting. The meaning behind them, the one Rodney steadfastly refuses to acknowledge, doesn’t ever change.

_(“You. Me. Jumper One. We’ll be back before Christmas.”)_

_(“C’mon, McKay. There’s a triple star system out there with your name on it.”)_

_(“No one’s gonna force you to get in the water. I’ll be on my board; you can bury your nose in the latest Physics Today. Win-win scenario.”)_

_(“You need fresh air. And while the trip’ll be easier if you’re conscious, you do know it’s not really necessary, right?”)_

_(“My mom’s side of the family has a farmhouse in the east. You ever seen a cross-eyed cow, Rodney?”)_

.

.

The day after they announce the official orders to ground Atlantis on Earth for good, Rodney proposes to Jennifer.

It’s also the day the four words make a comeback.

“You’re drunk, John,” he tells his best friend. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

It proves his point when the newly-promoted full-bird Colonel doesn’t bother asking _where_ that would be.

.

.

Phone calls. Email footnotes. Chicken scratches at the bottom of postcards.

John keeps asking, and Rodney’s running out of answers.

The words never change now.

_Run away with me?_

.

.

Rodney answers every single one of them. He can't not.

Verbal repartee is his stock in trade.

_Kick that bumbling chemist off your new gate team and I'll pack my bags._

_Just give me a minute to write a letter to Jennifer. We can't have her wondering where I went for the rest of her life, now, can we?_

_As long as I do the driving._

_Anywhere but the Tropics, Sheppard._

_This is Dr. Rodney McKay. Hang up now if you intend to waste my time. But if you must absolutely speak with me, leave a message and I'll get back to you._

.

.

It's not even a question anymore.

It's exactly what Rodney fears.

_Run away with me._

He hears the rain outside his window. And through the static on the other line.

Rodney hangs up, turns over in his bed, and shuts his eyes. He doesn't dare breathe before he hears the sound of revving engine fading away.

.

.

He’s exhausted when he gets back to his apartment after the trip to Wisconsin. Jennifer decided to stay behind for a few more days, something about things she needs for the wedding.

Rodney’s exhausted, but when his phone comes alive and it’s Radek’s voice telling him about Sheppard’s retirement the week before, his entire body goes rigid and it takes all his strength not to scream himself hoarse when the man picks up after three rings.

“Sheppard.”

He sounds as tired as Rodney feels, and they both know it has nothing to do with the hour.

"Hello?"

There’s a lot Rodney wants to say.

_What the fuck were you thinking!_

_You’re old, but you’re not _that_ old._

_I miss her, too. All of them.  
_

_I tried everything._

_Why didn’t you tell me?_

_Did you purposely do it while I was away?_

He thinks about saying four other words, throwing back the question the man seems to be fond of whipping around the past couple of months.

But it’s ridiculous, and he wouldn’t even mean it, right? He can't mean it. He's just gotten back from a trip that clearly illustrated how much he can't mean it.

It’s just a silly little game, one Sheppard seems intent on playing long after it’s run its course.

So Rodney doesn't say it, locks it away like all the other things they keep unspoken, unacknowledged, unavowed, between them.

He takes a deep breath, and says,

“Wanna celebrate?”

.

.

The thing that ticks him off the most, is that he isn’t even surprised. He was dreading it, sure, but part of him somehow knows something like it was bound to happen.

Rodney just expected better from him.

“I’m sure he’s just running late, Rodney. You know how he is.”

It took a miracle to have Teyla and Ronon be here with them today, and really, he’s grateful for their presence. But Teyla’s soft understanding and knowing eyes is the last thing he needs right now.

Of course he knows John. Sometimes, he thinks he’s really the only one who does.

“Will you go check on Jennifer? Make sure she’s not worrying about this?”

There’s a short pause, before Teyla gives his arm one last squeeze and leaves.

_Fuck you, Sheppard._

There’s less than fifteen minutes left before the ceremony starts, and his best man is nowhere to be seen. Rodney tells himself it’s anger he feels at the inevitable problems a missing best man is gonna cause, and not something else.

He still can’t believe Sheppard took it this far.

“Hey.”

He’s sitting on the curb like a pathetic loser when he hears the voice. His watch tells him there’s six minutes left.

“You!”

He’s so pissed he’s shaking, and he doesn’t even allow himself the small relief at seeing Sheppard dressed in his tuxedo before he’s on his feet.

“Just what game do you think you’re playing, huh? You decide to pull this shit _today?_ Really, John?”

The face of the man in front of him is open the way it has never been before. No more hiding. No holds barred.

Rodney's mind is stuck in a loop of _not now not now not now why now,_ and the tenuous grip he has on any semblance of self-control shakes as he goes toe to toe with the calm that John Sheppard has brought with him today.

He looks at his best friend in the world, and spears him with a glare. Daring him to answer.

To say the words that they know meant far more than what they've been pretending all this time.

“Last chance, Rodney.”

_._

_._

"lf anyone knows why these two individuals before me should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

_I'm sorry. I can't._

//end

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Harry Potter fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165174) that I've read a long time ago.


End file.
